Feral
by Apocalypse Betty
Summary: Takes places during issues #35 and #36 of the comic series, Scooby Apocalypse. A hidden moment between Fred and Daphne before the return of the Nanite King. Warning: contains sexual themed content.


Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from the Scooby Apocalypse characters.

Warning: Contains sexually themed content.

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Daphne was laughing with Velma and Shaggy, eating what was left of the pizza feast when they saw the resurrected Fred saunter downstairs to the basement.

Shaggy stopped chewing for a moment, "You know, I'm glad we got the Fredster back, but sometimes he just gives me the _willies_."

Velma nodded, "I agree. We can't be totally sure that he isn't blood thirsty."

Daphne swallowed her bite of pizza, "Well, I did tell you to run him over with the Mystery Machine when you had the chance."

Velma reached over to cut another slice, "Have you spoken to Fred much? I mean, besides when he held you hostage?"

Daphne scowled, "No, I haven't. And he's _not_ Fred."

Velma pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, "Regardless, at least he's _Fredish_. And if our plan tomorrow goes the way we want it to, then he won't be here much longer. So, for closure and your own mental health, maybe talking to him would be ideal."

Daphne glared across the table, while Shaggy and Velma waited with bated breath for Daphne to explode and verbally harass them into kingdom come.

Surprisingly though, she did not.

Daphne's face softened, "Yeah, I think you're right."

XXXXXX

Daphne moved down the basement stairs, taking one step at a time. The nanite plague had made her extremely cautious about dimly lit places. She always had her doubts, even though Quentin Dinkley had been adament that his complex is monster-free.

But she herself had been so certain that every last mutant creature was destroyed back in C.J. Nickel. Her guard was down for only a second…

Daphne blinked to allow her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, "Fred? I saw you come this way…"

Daphne saw Fred before she heard him. He had been sitting, slumped, against a pile of boxes in the corner.

His luminous red eyes looked up at her, "So, you _do_ think I'm Fred?"

Daphne sat down on a nearby box, "No, I just don't know what else to call you."

The two were silent for a few moments before Daphne asked, more for her own curiosity, "Are you nervous about the Nanite King?"

Fred sighed, "Yes, but not in the way you think I am. I'm already dead, I can't die again. But _you_ can. I just hope I can protect you. Protect all of you."

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, "That's why I tried so hard to get you to understand, Daph. If I spread my unique nanites to you, you might make it out of here alive."

His words were so…Fred-like…that it made her heart ache. She battled against the tears stinging her eyes.

Fred tried again, "I just-"

"You're not him," she interrupted, pointing her index finger at his chest, "You will _never_ be Fred."

She didn't know if you could insult a nanite controlled body, but when she saw his eyes lower to the floor and his shoulders sag, Daphne felt a smug sense of pride.

"I love you," was all he said. His body language looking every bit like the Fred she knew whenever he was feeling low.

Feeling hot and angry herself, Daphne stood up from her box and moved towards the happy laughter coming from upstairs. She should rejoin them, her friends, her people; the last remaining souls of the Henry Hudson Mall, and leave zombie Fred to his own devices in this gloomy basement.

Daphne paused before climbing the stairs and looked down at her boots. She didn't really want to leave him down here in the dark, but did Fred even belong with them anymore? A nanite infected corpse had no place among "normal" people.

So lost in thought was she, that she didn't hear Fred stand behind her. He sensed her internal conflict, and took this distraction to snake his arms around her waist and pull her to him. She did not fight it.

"You don't belong up there with them anymore," he whispered, "you belong down here, with me."

She closed her eyes as his hands roamed over her chest and stomach, toned from months of endless monster hunting. She made no move to encourage or halt him, but she did take a sharp intake of breath when she noticed his missing finger.

"You've changed, Daphne," he breathed into her neck, "Not as much as me, of course, but still…you're different."

He was right. She _had_ changed.

Fred brushed the red hair from the nape of her neck, "The nanites talk. They say you've become quite ruthless."

Fred's lips made contact with her neck and she leaned her head back into him. She then felt his tongue slither out to taste her healing wounds on the side of her face.

When her blood touched his tastebuds, Fred growled his desire low in his throat, "I've missed you these long months, Daph."

His voice sounded so much like the real Fred, that it shattered any resolve she had to reject him. The irony was delicious. His current actions were the closest she had seen him be to a human; whereas Daphne was the farthest she had ever been from her humanity. She was an empty husk that was more monster than the things lurking outside.

_Who had taken more lives, both human and mutation?_ she wondered. _Undead Fred or the death-dealing Daphne?_

He pulled her backwards from the stairway and into the darker parts of the basement, where the only light was emanating from an exit sign and Fred's glowing red eyes.

She turned in his arms and kissed him, needing somewhere to vent her pain and grief, and this false Fred was going to be it.

He responded immediately, dominating her mouth with his tongue. Daphne couldn't help the soft moans that would escape when he caught her lips occasionally with his teeth.

As if time was precious, Fred wasted none of it and yanked her pants down her legs, while Daphne worked his zipper. They did not bother removing their shirts.

All for the best. Seeing Fred's death wound across his stomach was bound to be a major mood killer.

Fred pushed her gently against a long crate and hinted for her to lay back. She obliged, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He entered her suddenly, neither of them needing foreplay. He took her roughly, almost savage. As if his life depended on this one act.

Fred was nearly violent in his thrusts, slamming hard, rocking the crate against the wall. Daphne was certain she would find multiple bruises later. The Fred Jones she knew would never have taken her so harshly.

_Good_.

_This serves as a perfect reminder that this is not my Fred. This nanite freakshow is something…other._

_But I can pretend._

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at his freakishly red ones.

Fred was moving deep and fast now, no real rythum or cadence, just giving in to a beat set by carnal nature.

Daphne was panting, close to hyperventilation, while Fred was growling in an almost animalistic way.

When he came, he fell forward and bit her neck until he tasted a small tinge of her blood. Daphne held his head there, in an almost loving gesture.

She fell with him into a deep calming bliss, all the while thinking_, Is he going to eat me? Tear my throat out right here and drain me dry?_

She silently wished he would.

Instead, when she opened her eyes she found he was looking into hers, with a tender expression that the real Fred had shown her numerous times.

He kissed her softly, daintily brushing her lips with his, "I'm so sorry, Daph. This isn't how I planned our future. You, going on all alone, without me."

She kissed him back, but only for a moment, as she gently pushed him to get off of her.

They refastened their pants in silence. Daphne ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it, while Fred did not even bother with his.

Daphne pondered what his motivation might be in sleeping with her. She was self-aware enough to know that this was morbidly therapeutic, a cathartic release of all the guilt she's carried these last six months. But Fred? What drove _him_ to fuck her? Dead things don't breed. Did he even feel pleasure?

He walked her to the stairway and watched her rejoin her friends. She did not even look back at him. Despite the rather cold parting, Fred smiled to himself.

In order for his distinctive nanites to colonize in another person, an introduction had to be made. Usually via the optic, oral, or nasal openings; however, intercourse would work just as well.

Fred laid back on the long crate with his hands behind his head, feeling successful. Now that his nanites were safely implanted, she would truely be protected. Daphne would surely live.


End file.
